Dark Fetish
by The-Onyx-LoLita
Summary: The Dark Lord is back in power, and he is certainly more powerful than ever here. Bellatrix, as we all know, has been obsessed with the Lord of Darkness since before his departure, and now she finally gets to have her wish granted.


Bellatrix twirled around in a circle around a black, polished desk, holding her wand high in the air and laughing manically. She was still overjoyed that she was free from that hell-hole called Azkaban. She was finally free, now having free will to run around without the threat of your soul being taken away. Her soul was the only thing she had left, considering the fact that her sanity was practically in pieces. The people around her were nothing to rely on. The Death Eaters could betray each other in the blink of an eye, not caring for the consequences. Unless they made the Vow – The Unbreakable Vow – then even the most reckless and gung-ho Death Eaters would obey the rules.

The door in the hall slammed shut with malice intentions.

Bellatrix stopped her pirouetting to smile into the face of pure evil: Dangerous, sexy, immortal evil. "How are you today, Dark Lord?" She asked, leaning against the desk, slinging her wand over her shoulder.

"I am outraged, Bellatrix," He pushed her off of the desk with ease and slammed down a rolled up newspaper. "The Muggles knows of our existence!"

Bellatrix shrugged her shoulders. "So? We want them to know we're here." She giggled and pulled a sardonically wry smile. "We need to scare them, take it back to the olden days."

"Read the paper!" Voldemort snapped, pointing one gnarled finger towards the parchment on the desk in front of them.

Bellatrix leaned over the edge of the desk, placing her face close to the paper, so as to take in every word that was written upon its surface. "The Times... What a strange name for a newspaper -"

"I do not care for its name, Bellatrix!" He shouted from behind her.

She swallowed, knowing that she could not push him this morning. He was in a foul mood. The last time he had been in a mood this foul was when a Muggle had stolen something precious to him. As to what it was, Bellatrix was unsure, but she knew that he had treasured it greatly.

"Yesterday, at around twelve-hundred hours, a bridge in London was demolished by a freak accident, sending dozen of cars falling into the waters below. Sources claim that this is down to bad construction work and poor effort in the making of the bridge only ten years previous, although, the minority of sources state that the bridge was demolished due to different and inexplicable reasons. Most of the minority sources were in fact witnesses on scene." She finished reading and turned her head to look at the pale faced man. "Most of the Muggle world believes that the bridge was built unsuccessfully -"

"Yet there are a few who do believe that it was a different reason, those who were at the scene, eye witnesses of the 'crime'."

"They can be disposed of." She replied sweetly, moving her foot from side-to-side in an innocent and child-like motion.

"Read the article on the next page, see if that helps to disprove your theory."

Bellatrix delicately licked the end of her fingers and turned the page to open the paper. She giggled as she read the headline.

"Read it out aloud, again." Voldemort commanded.

She wisely obeyed. "It has been claimed that the lack of policemen in London was the course of two murders that occurred in the centre of the city last week. The bodies of the men were found in distorted positions, with equally warped expressions of pain plastered upon their faces. It is claimed that the pair were tortured by two people in flowing black, hooded cloaks before they were swiftly killed with what witnesses called 'a blazing flash of green light'.

Despite the prime minister's attempts to convince the public that these two villains will be apprehended, the public is up in arms about their safety, claiming to have sighted many men and women dressed similarly to those described above. If anyone knows any information that may lead us to the killers, then please contact us on the number below."

Bellatrix did a strange wiggle of glee. "You want me to read out the number too, so that we can call them?"

"No, Bellatrix, I do not but you have let slip. You have not kept us hidden; our identities are important and must be kept under wraps."

"But, you want the Muggles to know that they are being targeted, right?" She asked. Sometimes, the Dark Lord did confuse her. He seemed to want one thing but was never willing to take the risks to get it. He was such a perfectionist.

Voldemort's nostrils flared, creating bizarre and eerie holes within his face. "I do indeed want the Muggles to feel targeted, but I do not wish for the followers to suffer at that price."

Bellatrix chuckled. "Most of us are willing to do _anything_ for you, Lord Voldemort." She couldn't help but add the double meaning to her words. She really was willing to give her all, even if her all meant her life, or her body.

"As they should," He retorted, sounding confused. She knew that she had caught him off-guard.

"You should be honoured," She whispered, fearful for what may happen if she back-chatted too often. Her dress strap had slipped down her arm during her wiggles and giggles of excitement. She placed her index finger and thumb upon her arm, taking hold of the thin material between them and beginning to pull it back to its proper place.

"No, Bellatrix. Leave it where it is." He breathed, his voice coming from closer than it had been doing before hand.

She hadn't realised what position she had left herself in. Her forearms were pressed flatly against the desk, leaving her backside placed in the full reach of the Dark Lord. Her breathing grew rapid, as soon as she realised how vulnerable she was, she felt her temperature rise and heartbeat quicken.

Voldemort's hand slowly caressed her right buttock, running the ball of his hand in a circular motion as he spoke. "Tell me, Bellatrix. What have my followers done wrong?"

She was frozen, everything in her body focused on the places where Voldemort was touching her. The nerves bouncing around dangerously, feeling this sort of thing was not normal, nor was it allowed for a married woman.

"You should answer me, Bellatrix." He whispered. The whistling of the air and lack of touch insinuated that he was drawing his hand back, and then bringing it forward again to slap his palm upon her buttock.

She jumped forward with the force of the slap. Her breath caught in her throat, half-way between a moan and a gasp. She couldn't decide which it was, but she knew that she enjoyed the stinging sensation that rippled down her thigh.

"Now, I will try again," His hand was now doing the same motion as before, but to the opposite buttock.

This time, she purposely held back an answer just to feel the sensation of Voldemort spanking her hard. Once again, her breath caught, this time letting the moan become only slightly clearer than before.

"Bellatrix, are you planning on answering me?" He questioned her rhetorically. "And again, what have you done wrong?" He queried. His hands were now swapping between both sides of her behind, creating one complete circle on either one before moving to the other.

She bit her lip and let out a muffled reply. "I don't know."

He brought his hand down on each cheek with equal force to the first two slaps, causing her to shuffle forward with each one again.

This time, her moan was not contained. It exploded from between her lips and surprised her with its intensity.

He leaned closer to her, placing his lips to her ear. "You appear to be enjoying this." He whispered, sounding both sensual and menacing with one tone.

She merely nodded. Coherent words were escaping her at that moment in time. The prickly sting of the slaps was still distracting her masochistic mind.

The skirt of her dress was thrown up over her back to reveal her underwear to the air around them, which was icy cold to the heat pooling between her thighs.

The ripping of fabric and sudden increased sense of the cold noted her to the fact that her underwear was no more. What a shame, those had been her favourite pair.

Bellatrix began to move round to attempt to face Voldemort, but her attempts were stopped by a hand pushing her firmly down onto the table top.

"You will not move." He commanded. She knew from experience that you must always obey the Lord when he spoke, and she doubted that during situations such as this the rules changed.

She froze, her hands grasping the sides of the table as his fingers began to explore the moist area that had spawned upon her crotch. She bit into her lip hard again as she whimpered with pleasure. His long, gnarled fingers could reach so many places that Rodoplous' stumpy ones could never have dreamed of doing. Her body was all a quiver with his actions.

She almost screamed at him to continue when he appeared to have decided that he had finished with his pleasuring her. She was still yearning for more than he had given her, but holding her tongue was the best option. The consequences were not worth a few minutes of pleasure.

The wind whistled again as the robes that clothed Voldemort were thrown away, revealing his own excitement and pleasure within this endeavour.

Bellatrix did not dare to look, but knew exactly what he was about to do. He was to enter her within seconds, and her dream of finally having sex with the 'man' of her dreams.

His fingers entwined into her hair as he began to thrust. "You still don't know what you've done wrong?" He asked again.

Her breathing was becoming heavier and heavier, deeper and deeper and words were even more incoherent than before. Her mind was swimming with the ecstasy of the pleasure and of finally getting the one she so truly desired. Even shaking her head was difficult.

He pulled on her hair, pulling her head back into what would have seemed an uncomfortable position. "Think – Bellatrix!" He managed to muster between pants and gasps of his own.

Her nails dug deep into the wood of the desk, splintering small amounts off as she began to lose complete control, her breathing becoming more than erratic, and her vocal cords producing sounds that she had no control over making or stopping. Her whole body began to shake with ecstasy and pleasure before it finally came to a stop at the same time her uncontrollable moans did.

"We did not obey." She managed to gasp, despite her evident struggle to gulp in the oxygen around her.

Voldemort released her head, throwing it down hard onto the desk and withdrew from within her. "You are right. You did not obey me." He returned the robes to his body and turned to walk away. "You shall learn that obeying me is not a choice, it is compulsory." He then strode away to leave Bellatrix out of breath, clutching at her head as it throbbed in pain from the hit on the desk.

She may obey him, but she would always wish that she could experience the previous event for a second time.

"_Thanks for reading. I do hope that you enjoyed it. I got the idea for this whilst doing my I.C.T. coursework of all things, and just had to write it. Please comment and review."_


End file.
